


The Theory of Relativity

by stonecoldhedwig



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gender whomst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, It's actually quite wholesome, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Lily, Step-Dad Sirius, This makes it sound far more depressing than it is, Widowed, Widower Remus, jily, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22232416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonecoldhedwig/pseuds/stonecoldhedwig
Summary: It's Remus' birthday party, and James is introducing his new partner. Cue meaningful conversations about gender, relationships, and devilled eggs.
Relationships: Caradoc Dearborn/Benjy Fenwick, Dorcas Meadowes/Emmeline Vance, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Marlene McKinnon/Gideon Prewett, Sirius Black/Marlene McKinnon, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 14
Kudos: 66





	The Theory of Relativity

**Author's Note:**

> For my dear friend J, who’s not on AO3, but whom I love so dearly. They are the Brandon to my Brandon. 
> 
> However, there are also nuggets of total crack in this, thanks to @confundedgryffindor, @jennandblitz, and @letsdothepanic. Sorry/not sorry.

“So Prongs is bringing his new girlfriend, right?” 

“Yeah, Lily, although they prefer partner.”

“Eh?” Remus blurted through a mouthful of crudite. Sirius laughed at the confused look on his face, and bent to nip at Remus’ jaw.

“James’ new boo is non-binary,” said Sirius, as he pulled away and crossed the room, putting food in the oven. “They prefer partner, not girlfriend.”

“Oh!” Remus’ eyebrows shot up, and his features set in a look of mild delight. “I didn’t realise that’s what you meant. That’s fun though! They’ll be the first non-binary person I’ve met.” 

Sirius laughed as he slid another tray of vol-au-vents into the oven. He walked back across the kitchen to where Remus was standing by the counter, and slapped the other man’s hand away from taking yet another carrot stick.

“ _Stop eating the party snacks._ Also, babe,” chuckled Sirius, “they’re a person, not a Pokemon. Be less _gotta-catch-em-all_ about it, yeah?” 

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Remus huffed and prodded Sirius’ bicep. “A lot of this is new to me, you know that! I was in the closet for thirty-seven of my thirty-nine years, cut me some slack, eh?”

Sirius moved to stand in front of the other man, sliding strong hands around Remus’ lithe waist. Remus was built like a beanpole—tall and slender—but his chin came up to just the point where he could tuck it onto Sirius’ shoulder. Sirius reached out and placed his hand under Remus’ chin, guiding his face upwards so that Sirius could press their lips together in a long, languid kiss. He played at Remus’ lower lip with his teeth and tongue, teasing and soothing in equal measure. 

“I don’t know how you stayed in the closet so long,” Sirius murmured finally against Remus’ lips, “seeing as _everyone_ in television is gay.”

“Well, I’d say it wasn’t exactly in the closet if I wasn’t even aware of it myself. You know, the whole being-married-to-a-woman-thing.” 

Sirius pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and scanned Remus’ face, watching the way a dark cloud of _her_ passed over it with that comment. He knew that look. That was the look of Remus getting caught up in his wilderness, haunted more than usual by the unquiet ghost that was always going to be there, the third part of their relationship. “Talk to me,” Sirius whispered. “Tell me what’s on your mind, honey.” 

Remus swallowed. What was he supposed to say? _I love you with my whole heart, but that heart is battered and bruised and broken, and one day you’re going to realise that I might not ever be more than I am right now and—_

“Feels weird, you know?” he started, his voice cracking a little. “I put Ted to bed and I came down here and it’s you at the table, not Dora. We’re hosting my birthday party, and it’s you making canapés, not her. That’s not a problem—“ Remus added hurriedly, his eyes widening—“of course it’s not a problem, it’s just… sometimes it hits me harder than I expect it to.” 

“I know,” Sirius said softly. He meant it—he understood. He and Remus had been casual acquaintances for so long; they’d shared polite greetings and the odd bit of small talk at awards nights, but never anything more. And then she’d died. _Dora_. That’s what Remus called her, although Sirius had always known her by her maiden name, by _Tonks_. She was the camerawoman _everyone_ wanted, the one that they vied for at production meetings. Smart and sassy and fucking _brilliant_ at what she did and just… gone. 

“I’m not comparing the two of you—please don’t think I am, I just—“

“Remus,” Sirius said gently, pulling him closer. “ _I know_ , trust me. You never, ever have to worry that I think you’re comparing me with Dora. I promise you that. And you know, if you want to cancel tonight, we can. We can get the Tedster out of bed and watch something terrible and cheesy and eat all this party food by ourselves like the true gluttons we are.” 

“No, no, we shouldn’t cancel. Your brother is going to be here in legitimately fifteen minutes,” Remus replied with a watery smile, glancing at the kitchen clock over Sirius’ shoulder. “I’ve never known him to be anything other than precisely twenty minutes early to any event.” 

“And _God_ I love him for it,” laughed Sirius in reply, planting a kiss on the end of Remus’ nose. “But I know for absolute certain that James wouldn’t mind turning right round and going home if we told him to. Either that, or joining us to watch yet another episode of some terrible reality programme from the American South.” 

Remus snorted. It was an enduring disagreement between him and Sirius, about whether watching all the terrible reality TV programmes constituted _research_ for either of them. Sirius insisted it did; after all, watching something with such poor production values only made him incensed, he argued, and that spurred him on in his work. Remus wasn’t so sure about that logic. 

“No,” he said, a little brighter, “I don’t want to cancel. I want to ring in thirty-nine with you and all our friends.” 

“Excellent.” Sirius kissed Remus’ forehead. “In that case, I need your help with the tomato tarts…” 

Fifteen minutes later, just as Remus had predicted, they heard the sound of James’ keys in the front door. It had been a point of no discussion when they moved in; James got a set of keys, just like Peter did, and just like Marlene did. Remus had wondered if it would be weird, all those people having access to the house, coming and going for cups of tea on a Sunday afternoon, or popping in after work to drop off a book. He and Dora hadn’t lived like that; not that they hadn’t had friends, of course they had. But it had been a _different_ kind of friendship, one that didn’t exist in quite such an organic, spontaneous way. 

“Haaaappy Birthday!” James sang as he strolled into the kitchen. Under one arm was a box of beer, which he deposited on the table; in the other hand he carried a birthday gift wrapped in gold paper, tied with a bright red ribbon. Behind James followed the person Remus could only assume to be Lily—red haired, carrying a bottle of wine, and wearing a denim jacket with the most impressive collection of enamel pins he’d ever seen. 

“Thank you,” Remus grinned, shaking James’ outstretched hand. “It’s good to see that you’re still as early as ever.” 

“I just like to make sure you get your money’s worth of my company.” 

“Brother,” Sirius said warmly, embracing James. He smelt like sandalwood and old spice, like he always did when Sirius pulled him in for a hug and buried his nose in James’ hair. 

“How are you doing?” asked James as they pulled apart. 

“Not so bad, not so bad.” Sirius moved around James and politely kissed Lily on both cheeks. “Welcome to the madhouse, Lily! It’s good to see you again.” 

“Thanks,” Lily grinned and proffered the bottle of wine. “A little something to say thank you for having us tonight.” 

“Oh, you didn’t need to do that!” Sirius tutted and took the bottle from them, a genuine smile on his face. “C’mon, meet the birthday boy.” 

“Lily, Remus… Remus, Lily,” James said, gesturing between the two of them. “Remus is a sound engineer, Lily is a scriptwriter like me. I met them at work.”

“Great to finally meet you, Lily,” smiled Remus, extending a hand for Lily to shake. They wore their hair back from their face, the long copper strands braided into a plait, soft tendrils loose around their ears. Their green eyes were like sea glass; Remus could see why James had fallen for them. Those eyes said sparks of mischief and soulful conversations and late-night spontaneous trips to watch the stars. Remus knew Lily was younger than them, a decade younger if he remembered correctly; they were vibrant and shining, and Remus felt drawn to them immediately. 

“You too, Remus,” Lily replied. “Happy Birthday!”

“By the way, I fully expect to pass out in your guest room,” James said through a mouthful of tomato and mozzarella, having swiped a bruschetta from the plate that sat waiting on the kitchen table. “I have not done anything fun in approximately eleventy-billion years, and I would like to be _very drunk_ tonight.” 

“Stop eating the damn food before everyone gets here,” grumbled Sirius. “Just because _you_ can’t arrive to anything at the allotted invite time.” 

“You can sleep in the spare room as long as you don’t wake my kid up on the way,” Remus mock-chided. He smiled at Lily. “I’m sure you know this by now, but James has never, in his life, been delicate, and the amount of times he has managed to wake my son up…” 

“Once he managed to wake him up from _outside_ ,” Sirius said incredulously. “We were at our parents and James was yowling about something and managed to wake poor Teddy up _from the bottom of the back garden_.”

“When was the last time you lived with him?” answered Lily, deadpan. “He is the noisiest man I’ve ever met. Cutlery is not put away, it is thrust at the drawer like it offended his honour; the bathroom door is not shut, it is slammed _for effect_. Honestly, I’ll go deaf at this rate before I’m forty, but I guess that means I also won’t have to listen to his endless narration.” 

“ _Rude!_ ” cried James to the sound of his friends’ laughter. 

Before long, the house was full of guests—Peter Pettigrew, Remus’ long-time friend; Gideon Prewett, back from filming a documentary in the Arctic, sporting a bushy beard as fiery as his red hair; Dorcas Meadowes and Emmeline Vance, newly-married and barely able to keep their eyes off one another; friends from university and from work and from those strange coincidental circumstances that had brought the right people into their lives. 

Remus found himself in a group with Lily and Peter, one of his oldest friends, along with Hestia Jones, a sports reporter. They stood around, swapping stories and Out the corner of his eye, Remus saw Benjy Fenwick and Caradoc Dearborn walk into the room. They were a funny couple, really; about as different from one another as could be. Benjy was a newsreader for the morning news, a classic kind of handsome with a winning smile and sandy blonde hair that was turning grey at the temples. Caradoc, by contrast, was a great hulk of a man; rough around the edges, powerful, the sort of man you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley. That aesthetic made it all the better that he was a composer, writing subtle, delicate melodies. 

“Happy Birthday, mate,” Caradoc said, his slightly crooked smile warm and genuine. “You’re nearly as old as Benjy now; they might rope you in to start reading the evening news, too.” 

“Fuck you too, Caddy,” tutted Benjy, and shook Remus’ hand. They’d worked together for a documentary series Benjy had presented, and ended up getting so drunk one night that Benjy fell asleep on Remus and Dora’s sofa, only to wake the whole house up at 4am with a litany of _shit, fuck_ and _bugger_ as he realised he was going to be late for work. It had been a sight to see him presenting the news an hour and a half later with the look of a man not long for this world.

“Good to see you, Benj,” Remus grinned. Beside him, Peter was making introductions. 

“This is Lily, and she—“ he began. 

“They,” Lily interrupted. 

Peter did a double take. “Er, sorry?” he asked, going a little pink. 

“ _They_ ,” Lily repeated again, smiling. “I’m non-binary. So, _they_ and _them_ , if you please.” 

“And if you don’t please,” James grinned, appearing behind them with Sirius and a glass of champagne in each hand. He offered one to Lily. 

“God, I’m sorry, I didn’t know, I—“ 

“Peter,” Lily smiled, and reached out their hand to rest on his arm. “It’s cool, you know?” 

“Right,” Peter blushed harder. 

“Oi, Prongs, help me with the canapés, would you?” Sirius shouted from the other side of the room through a mouthful of crisp.

“Duty calls,” said James ruefully, looking at Lily. “You’ll be alright, yeah?”

“Of course.” They lifted a hand and caressed James’ cheek with a smile, gentle and teasing. “Go be the consummate host, old man.”

“Honey, everyone here’s old,” laughed Sirius as he passed them. 

“Yeah, old and queer,” added Remus. 

James turned to follow Sirius, but not before Peter spoke again. 

“Well, James is just old.”

Sirius heard it too, expecting the usual eye-roll and the joke from James about him being the _token straight,_ to make sure the party complied with diversity policy. Instead, he heard James murmur under his breath as he followed Sirius into the kitchen. 

_“I don’t know about that.”_

Sirius frowned as he walked. _What did that mean?_ The door behind them swung closed, leaving James and Sirius alone in the kitchen with the noise of the party buzzing in the next room. Sirius turned to look at James, confused by what he’d just heard. “What does that mean? _You don’t know about that._ ” 

“It’s all relative, isn’t it?” James shrugged again. He reached for a plate of blinis, studiously avoiding Sirius’ eye. 

Sirius knew what that was. That was James’ _tell_ , the little gesture that said _I’m-playing-it-cool-but-I’m-not-cool_. “Relative, right,” he murmured.

“You think you’re one thing, and then you fall for someone, and it makes _no sense_ because, well, you know—“ James gestured vaguely with the plate, the salmon-laden blinis threatening to cascade to the floor. 

Sirius cocked his head to one side, a half smile playing at his lips. “You wanna talk about this?” he asked, leaning forward a little to try and catch James’ eye. The rest of the canapés were laid out on the counter, waiting for them. It didn’t really feel appropriate to be having these sorts of meaningful conversations over devilled eggs, Sirius thought, but life was short and he couldn’t let Remus’ choice of canapé distract him.

James sighed, and set the plate back on the counter. “Dating Lily is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he said with earnest. “They make me laugh more than I can thought possible; them being ten years younger than me stops me turning into a crotchety old man, I guess. They see the world in such a different way to me, in the most _luminescent_ way, and they’re so _good_ to me."

Sirius’ heart felt like it was swelling in his chest. James deserved happiness— _God_ , he deserved happiness, Sirius thought. No one in the world had been there for him like James had been, and Sirius knew how much it hurt James’ heart over the years when he’d been single. There’d been the odd girlfriend now-and-then over the years, but no one that had stuck around for more than six months or so. Sirius had taken offence to almost all of them—too _this_ , too _that_ , not enough _whatever_. Not good enough for James, in essence, and Sirius wanted his brother with someone who deserved him. Or maybe it was more that Sirius wanted someone for James who _understood him_ , because James deserved to be understood. 

“But I’ve never dated someone who’s non-binary before,” continued James. “I don’t know what to call me, to call us, and I don’t want to _ask_ because that just makes me sound like the crotchety-old-man-who-can’t-move-with-the-times that I desperately don’t want to be.” James snatched up one of the devilled eggs on the plate beside him and proceeded to eat it. 

“You’re a screenwriter,” Sirius laughed, wrapping an arm around James’ shoulders and planting a firm kiss to his head, “of course you’re obsessed with the wording of this. Also, could you _please_ stop eating the middle of that devilled egg like you’re going down on it?” 

“Fuck you,” James snorted, “you know I hate egg white.” 

“Aye, and you’re making me hate it too, the way you’re eating that thing.” Sirius grimaced and snatched the offending canapé from James’ hand. “Back to what’s more important, you and Lily.” 

“It’s just been a big _thing_ for me, you know?” James frowned, looking into the middle distance, just beyond Sirius’ shoulder. “And it shouldn’t be, because it’s not about me, it’s about Lily, and I don’t get to make it about me when I’m—I’m not, _gah!_ ” James shook his head irritatedly. “I shouldn’t be obsessing over a _label_ when there are more important things.” 

“You’ll find your word,” said Sirius softly, catching his brother’s chin with his forefinger. “You’ll find the thing that works for you and for Lily. Because, mate, _fuck everyone else._ It’s what’s in _here_ that matters.” Sirius tapped James’ chest with a grin. “Whatever the right word is, whatever it is that sums up how much the two of you clearly love each other— _and don’t fucking tell me you don’t, James Fleamont, I’ve watched you look at each other._ And not to be a total cheesefest, and I’m sorry that this isn’t as eloquent as you would be, but I’m a producer, not a writer.” 

“You think?” James asked, the worry written across his face, carving a crease between his brows. 

“Sure. I didn’t expect to fall in love with a widower with a seven-year-old, did I? But I now live in Putney and we have a three-bedroom house and a mortgage.” Sirius shrugged. “Sometimes life throws you curve balls. Go with it, man.” 

“Can I have my egg back now?” James asked with mock innocence.

“Yes, you idiot,” laughed Sirius. 

Behind them, they heard the kitchen door swing open, and turned. Remus walked in, carrying a tray of empty glasses. He was a little flushed in the face from the heat of lots of people and lots of chatter in the other room, but his eyes lit up when he saw Sirius. 

“You guys ok?” he asked, padding through the kitchen towards the hallway.

“Aye, Prongs is being a melt.” 

“I am not being a melt!” James cried, elbowing Sirius. 

“Melt slightly quieter, would you?” cringed Remus, glancing up at the ceiling. “You’ve got a voice like a foghorn, James, and Ted is supposed to be sleeping.” 

“ _I’m not being a melt!_ ” James repeated in a mock whisper. 

“Eat your damn egg, Prongs,” snorted Sirius. 

Remus chuckled, but didn’t reply, instead heading for the hall. He loved hosting their friends, he really did; spending time with all these frankly fucking marvellous people was always a good time. And Sirius had been so good tonight—the first time hosting Remus’ birthday in their new house was always going to be hard, and he’d been so sensitive. 

But there was always going to be a part of him that missed Dora on nights like these, Remus thought as he climbed the stairs, the familiar twinge in his bad right knee. People had always said that time would make it easier, but Remus wasn’t so sure; soon enough, Teddy would be old enough to join them at the parties they hosted, rather than being asleep upstairs, and Remus couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel if it was Dora still standing next to him as Teddy helped Remus blow out his candles. 

That was next year’s dilemma, though. Remus popped his head round the door of the bedroom, looking in on his son. He could tell from the Lego castle that had appeared on the floor since the last time he checked in that Teddy had not gone _immediately_ to sleep, and smiled. _This kid will be the death of me_ , Remus thought as he padded across to move it, so that Teddy wouldn’t stand on it in the night. 

“Daddy?” The small, sleepy voice from Teddy’s bed made his father jump a little. 

“Hi, little man,” Remus murmured, walking over to the bed. He perched on the edge of it, the springs groaning a little as he sat down and fussed at Teddy’s dinosaur bed sheets. His son looked up at him, hair mussed from sleep and eyes blinking long and slow. 

“Did all the party happen?” 

“Uh-uh,” Remus shook his head. “There are still people here.” 

“Did you have your cake?” Teddy asked, doe eyes blinking. Remus felt his heart constrict at that, because _fuck_ , he loved his son more than anything in the world. He didn’t want him to grow up; he wanted him to stay seven forever, small enough for Remus to carry upstairs when he’d fallen asleep on the sofa, and young enough to still call him Daddy with that hint of a lisp. 

“No, not yet,” whispered Remus, running a hand through Teddy’s sandy blonde hair, so like his own. “I’ll save you a piece, I promise.” 

“Mkay,” slurred Teddy. Remus could tell he was being pulled again by the gentle embrace of sleep, and leant forward to press a soft kiss to his son’s forehead. 

“Goodnight, little man,” he whispered. 

Remus smiled as he exited the room, closing the door softly behind him. Teddy was a good kid—the best kid—and Remus couldn’t have been luckier. His son was smart and caring and resilient, and though he wished _that_ wasn’t a word he had to use about Teddy so young in his life, it was true. 

Descending the stairs, Remus noticed Lily standing in the hallway. They really were lovely, he thought, smiling a little to himself. James deserved lovely. He deserved happy and lovely and _joyful_ , after everything he’d been through the last few years. 

“You ok, Lily?” Remus asked, approaching them. 

Lily turned and smiled at him. “These are gorgeous photos,” they said, nodding at the picture frames on the wall. And they were right—Remus knew they were lovely. Sirius called it the _wall of fame_ —family photo after family photo, Teddy at every stage off infancy to toddlerdom to boyhood. They’d transplanted it to this house from the flat Remus had shared with _her_. _A little bit of that life in the midst of their fresh start_ , Sirius had whispered into Remus’ ear after they put it up and surveyed their handiwork. 

“My wife,” he said, nodding at the black-and-white photo that took centre stage in the collage. He looked at it a little sadly, wishing like he always did that they’d had it printed in full colour. Dora’s hair had been lavender at the time; beautiful, delicate lavender that turned a dark slate-grey when he combed his damp fingers through it as they lay in the bath together. 

“James said she passed away,” Lily said softly, “not that long ago.” 

“Car accident,” replied Remus gruffly. “Three years ago.” 

“I’m sorry.” Lily reached out and took Remus’ hand, squeezing it gently. “I lost my dad to a car accident when I was sixteen. I know how awful it is… how sudden.” 

“Yeah…” Remus murmured, lost in thought. _Sudden_ —that was the right word for it. Sudden and cruel and wretched and awful, and any other combination of words that summed up the dead feeling in his chest when he’d opened the door to the police officers on that icy January evening. 

“Big adjustment, hey?” Lily said.  “It helps when you have good people around you, though.” 

“Finding Sirius was like air to a drowning man,” Remus replied. He looked at Lily out the corner of his eye. “I thought I was going to die like Dora did. I thought I was just going to be consumed by it. People tell you that it’s your kids that keep you going, and they’re not wrong, but—“ Remus shook his head, swallowing. “Every time I looked at Teddy, I saw _her_.” 

“You kept going though, didn’t you?” Lily said, and caught Remus’ hazel eyes with their green ones. 

“Yeah.” Remus let out a breathy sort of laugh, offering Lily a watery smile. “I did.” He wasn't sure why he was telling them this; it was the first time he’d met Lily, for goodness sake. But there was something about them, something inherently trustworthy and honest and _good_ that made Remus want to tear down all his barriers and just _be_. 

“And I think that’s fucking _brave_ ,” Lily smiled in return, reaching out and sorting a wayward curl on Remus’ head with their fingers. 

“I couldn’t have done it without Sirius. He taught me to laugh in the midst of grief, you know?” 

“Yeah, I know.” Lily smiled easily, crossing their arms comfortably. They glanced toward the sitting room. “James waxes lyrical about Sirius.” 

“Oh?” Remus feigned surprise. “I’d never have expected it.” 

“Oh, _ha ha.”_ Lily rolled their eyes and caught Remus’ shoulder good-naturedly with their own. “I guess I didn’t realise quite how… _close_ they are. But having met Sirius, and now you… I get it a little more.” 

Remus gestured to the bench that ran alongside the stairs, that Sirius had _insisted_ upon buying from a place in Portobello Market. Remus had hated it at first, only for them to get it home and put it in place for him to realise that it was _perfect_. That said, he could never tell Sirius that he’d been wrong about it—the smugness would be unbearable—and so it had become a long-running joke between the two of them that Remus would complain every time he had to sit on it. The thought of that made the corners of Remus’ mouth twitch up in a whisper of a smile as he and Lily sat down. 

“Get it how?” he asked, looking at them again. 

Lily sighed, clearly thinking of how to phrase what they wanted to say. Remus watched as they shifted to sit cross-legged on the bench, resting their hands atop their knees. On one hand was a delicate flower tattoo; lily flowers, and something else—something Remus didn’t know the name of—woven together. The other flower was simple, five petals, and Remus bit back the urge to ask, to _know_ what it meant. 

“You know about James’ mental health, obviously,” they said finally. Remus nodded—of course he did. There’d been a time when he and Sirius were first tentatively dating when James had had to move out of his and Sirius’ shared flat, back to his parents’ house in the West Country. Remus could still vividly remember the dark purple circles under James’ eyes, the permanent pallor he seemed to have, the way his depression just _consumed him_. 

“Yeah.” 

“He talks a lot about Sirius, about how he’d never have got through it without him. It’s nice to see that relationship in the flesh, to understand it a bit more. I kinda wonder what they were like before they met, you know?” smiled Lily. “I don’t think I can imagine James without Sirius now.” 

Remus hummed in agreement. “I didn’t know them before they knew each other, but Marlene did.” 

“Marlene?” Lily frowned.

“Yeah, Sirius’ ex,” Remus continued with a rueful smile. “She’ll be here later.” 

Lily’s eyebrows shot up instinctively, and Remus laughed at the look on their face. “I know, I know,” he said, holding up his hands, “it’s all a big braided mess in our friendship group.” 

“ _Christ_.” 

“Marlene moved in the same _circles_ as James and Sirius,” explained Remus. “The two of them went to rival boarding schools, and Marlene went to the girls’ equivalent, or something. Lots of balls and dinners and that lark. The three of them ended up at university together in Scotland.” 

“And Sirius and Marlene got together at uni or something?” Lily asked. 

“Yeah, they were together for ten years, so—“ 

“ _Ten years?!_ ” 

Remus couldn’t help but chuckle as Lily looked wildly at him. “You’ve probably met Marlene’s husband.” Remus jerked his chin towards the sitting room. “Gideon? Big guy—“ he puffed out his chest to demonstrate— “with the red hair.” 

“How has James not mentioned this to me?!” Lily shook their head with a grin. “Honestly, that man will tell me the intricate details of a plot he’s writing at the moment, but won’t tell me these fundamentals about his friends. I thought Sirius was gay!” 

“Ehhhh—“ Remus matched his non-committal noise with a side-to-side head gesture— “I think nowadays he’d probably go for pan?”

“Got it,” Lily nodded with a smile. “I’ll berate James later for his utter lack of preparation for tonight.” 

“What are you two gossiping about?” 

Both Lily and Remus looked up to see James and Sirius standing in the hall with them. For two people genetically unrelated, they _looked_ like brothers. Both James and Sirius had those clear grey eyes, that sparkled with the mirth of some conversation, some connection, that other people weren’t privy to. Even the way they held themselves seemed connected and complementary; Sirius was the languid fluidity that offered grace to James’ fumbling clumsiness. James’ face was open and earnest, the other part of Sirius’ self-assured smirk. 

“You two,” Remus replied bluntly, gesturing between the two of them with his beer. “ _You_ —“ he pointed at James with his bottle— “forgot to tell Lily that Marlene and Sirius used to date.” 

“What?” Sirius barked out a laugh and turned to look at his brother. 

“Yeah,” James scoffed, “like a hundred years ago for about a hot second.” 

The other three looked at him incredulously.

“James, we were together for _ten years_ ,” Sirius said, beginning to laugh again. “Since when is that _a hot second_?”

“Well,” James blustered as Remus and Lily stood and the group turned back towards the sitting room. “It’s all relative, isn’t it?” 


End file.
